Is Progress Over-Rated?
When choice is confiscated by little minds or might,
scope's rightful place vacated when bigotry or spite
come unanticipated to sweep away delight,
or red-tape inundated by petty parasite
as bureaucrat fat, sated, sets rules sans oversight,
those once emancipated must reclaim civil right
heed call anticipated, prepare for freedom's fight.
When equity is bended by vested interests quite
at ease corruption tended or theft's waft weft sown tight,
when energy expended perverted is, insight
should channel scope extended, intolerance indict.
When walls fall, bridges mended, prepare for further flight.
With justice dislocated ways narrow dynamite
diversity related to understanding's light,
then truth, communicated, should everyone incite
to see trust reinstated in statutes black and white
while judgements biased, weighted, are banished, all upright.
Tomorrow's tracks extended just future must invite
to spread ways, truth defended, to readily excite
imaginations blended with acts which reunite
new paths to be defended to stimulate, rewrite
a future fair and splendid which whets hope's appetite.
Is 'progress' over-rated as terran terabyte
nets hearts which once vibrated for few now underwrite
the principles once stated as everyman's birthright.
Is man's great plan, once fêted, doomed to unending plight
with tenderness' star fated to dim, disc overwrite.
Years new witness tears ended, show fresh reflection bright.
as errors apprehended, amended are a-right,
transparency intended to banish bias blight,
as wheels turn, Time, suspended, might rediscover light
with ardour unpretended, with better world in sight.
Our verses here are ended with neither joy nor spite,
the moral that's appended - distrust hierarchies' bite.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Many Roads Await
Many links extended, t[r]end outwards into light,
As rainbow drops descended dispense due dew delight.
New roads must be defended to stimulate, rewrite
Years starting, for years ended show slight reflection bright.
Right, wrong, misapprehended, are neither black nor white,
Out and inside when [bl]ended, intolerance indict.
As wheels turn, Time, suspended, prepares for further flight,
Dream theme streams are intended to startle, day and night.
Spread is each page portended as message to incite
All walls to fall, bridge mended, ways narrow dynamite
With fervence unpretended so men worldwide unite.
All roads to Rome, befriended, help ease the people's plight
Imply toil, tears expended gain better world in sight.
Tomorrow's tracks extended just future must invite.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Karmic Churn
Life's energy's expended
in vicious circle churn
till instincts apprehended -
once contradictions mended -
are ready to discern
for nothing one needs yearn.
Who is from stars descended
to stardust must return
when once the journey ended
then karma true extended
hands memory torch to burn
to karma next in turn.
No moral is appended ~
for there is none to [l]earn...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Incompleteness
Verse cannot completely trace
one fair reflection where the light
leaves an impression of such grace
that words, found wanting, seek insight
to reunite with spirit bright,
yet every line links to disgrace
when compared, when second sight
seeks to satisfy both pace
and sense of fitness which replace
the commonplace that must indict
the great part of the human race,
read here both truth and envy's spite.
Yet who'll, on reading this, believe
here's no intention to deceive?
(18 May 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Accessibility Sonnet
Although acessibility at times appears an empty dream,
Creative strategies MUST lead towards acceptance of this right,
Confirming care for special needs, for firm and long term oversight,
Efforts made internationally to guarantee clear meta scheme.
Strengths and weaknesses should see transparency, informed esteem.
Suspicions more suspicions breed, pollute life’s stream, begin to bite
Into advances bias freed. Discrimination all indict
Brains may be disability - for things are seldom all they seem.
In age of ubiquity true opportunities may gleam
Lifting barriers to excede base expectations which tonight
In sight or hearing often seed fear, frustration bottled tight.
To handicap the right 'to be' is recognized within man's team.
Yet - if respecting privacy - tomorrow's sensor networks may
Stimulate diversity, to hope and scope add interplay.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Light
Day and night
Is decided upon by light
Daylight is wondrous and bright
Darkness solely brings upon fright
Black and white
Is entirely lucid in light
The beauty of sight
Is valued broadest in light
Any form of fight
Must be done in light
Otherwise winning will be tight
In the absence of light
Hovering around will be our plight
We can't separate wrong from right
If we cannot see without the light
So light from the sun is fun
Essential for a battle to be won
As a fire ignites
Particles of dust reunite
The fiery orange light
Fends of the termites that bite
The candle or moonlight
Is always a special invite
Inspiring me to write
Spinning my imagination to great heights!
Light is good
Light is food
Light acts upon our moods
Light is a weapon
Light is a bundle of fun
Light of a lamp, of a candle or sun
I call for you to keep shining on!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Time's Tide
Those cause/effect relations seek to investigate
ask why life’s lamentations can’t flow past pearly gate,
why can’t hope’s expectations some sects anticipate
show we’re wheeled incarnations, frustrations, fears, negate
Why worry what tomorrow may offer if at all,
share laughter, spurning sorrow, ignoring wailing wall,
each wakes one day, hopes hollow, must piper pay as shawl
in winding sheet few follow, no trumps for final call.
Time's tide has been extended beyond the sands of hope,
free ride from heyday ended, frayed tether, broken rope,
recount lost time expended, events' ghost mirage grope,
as most proud man intended black hole's Time's telescope.
Bright spark - life's candle gutters - so swiftly movements cease,
one cry before heart flutters, before 'Here rests in peace! '
one sigh then parting’s shutters are drawn with no surcease,
one dies while crowd bread butters inheritance apiece.
In youth great expectations mask ignorance - a vice -
few meet anticipations, most, sour, scower at Fate’s dice.
life’s joke is on Creation’s head, ne’er repeated twice,
one innings: vindications leave after-thoughts to lice.
Behind lie verses threaded, skeins sense retains in vain,
life's loves too soon are bedded by Fate immune to pain.
life’s gloves too soon are shredded by thorny greed for gain,
‘Above’ is concept wedded to fear, none bat again.
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0922_robi3_0000 XXX_CDZ 2 January 2001 revised 22 December 2008 for previous version see below
Time's Tide
Some cause/effect relations
would understand and splice -
what wall of lamentations
may give a game played twice?
Why care Creation's date to play -
the aeons ebb and flow, -
Man wakes one day with price to pay,
and nowhere left to go.
Time's tide has been extended
beyond the sands of hope,
the time for games has ended,
what trumps remain, what scope?
In youth great expectations
masked ignorance - a vice -
of how anticipations
can sour at throw of dice.
A spark, - life's candle gutters -
so swiftly mouvements cease.
One cry before heart flutters,
before 'Here rests in peace! '
Luck's tithe has been expended,
no slack remains, the rope
draws tight 'spite rules once bended
to ease life's line, to cope.
And like these verses threaded
in skein sense would retain,
Life's loves too soon are bedded
by Fate immune to pain.
2 January 2001
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Pigalle IV - 0094 - Current Version
By cell phone, near a neon light,
or corner strip club's sleazy door,
gad the sad glow-worms of the night.
Do not ask them why or wherefore
forlorn, they set their sorry sight
with weary chatter, wary spite.
On call for all, in somewhat light
apparel to attract the more
each paints faint mirage of delight
ephemeral which most deplore.
In house or out, they story write
which makes dark reading few recite.
Unenvied, mo[]) rning, twilight,
lit cigarettes, hearts, ankles sore,
strutting the street to left and right.
Do not ask them who they care for,
with rights in pawn through diverse plight,
wasted, worn, self-tortured quite.
Exploited, often blameless blight,
b[l]eached far from the social shore.
unless you [b]reach insight,
do not ask them what they're there for
as mens' manipulations might
be highlighted: bed, board and bite!
‘Tis men who would themselves excite
perverting innocence to store
for gain, for power to incite
or compensate libido poor,
who blackmail, tight rein run through fright,
yet no-one here is lily white.
(20 August 2004)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Plateau - 1864
Could ever Eden's garden bright
be sacrificed to futile fight
when teeming dreams continue to
rhyme sunshine beams to future true?
Illusion may prove idyll blessed
by horse and carriage marriage dressed
where night is day and day through night
prolongs shared happiness' delight.
No way is truly lost, no flight
from fancy to fact fiction's blight,
no bark, no bite, and no denial,
no cruelty, one-sided trial,
no tarnish - wishing star at best
for future stars at love's behest.
No carelessness, for true insight
distinguishes 'twixt wrong and right.
Shared memories spell magic quite
enheartening, self-sustaining, might
dissolve fears with alacrity
show there's no cause - fatality
lies outside shared experience,
while slow decline at soul's expense
is out of court. Love must be right
must sweep suspicion out of sight.
Best is a plateau pearly white,
envelops life in peerless light,
If you discover - much ado -
I'm not the one, to self stay true,
let old affection guarantee
that love despises locks - float free,
and through that freedom find despite
doubts past, at last innate birthright.
(2 March 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ballooning Blue Hopes
Ballooning hopes speed, seed scope's light,
All clouds disperse, false fears take flight,
On future fair grace places dreams
On past despair trace fades, it seems
Ingenuous finds fresh delight.
Black holes prove mirage, out of sight.
Unrestricted, beach born beams
Energize as joy esteems
Horizons boundless, blue and bright,
Pleasure spirit and excite
Enthusiastic promised day
Spirits dark troubles, cares away.
(12 January 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Plateau
PLATEAU
Could ever Eden's garden bright
be sacrificed to futile fight
when teeming dreams continue to
rhyme sunshine beams to future true?
Illusion may prove idyll blessed
by horse and carriage marriage dressed
where night is day and day through night
prolongs shared happiness' delight.
No way is truly lost, no flight
from fancy to fact fiction's blight,
no bark, no bite, and no denial,
no cruelty, one-sided trial,
no tarnish - wishing star at best
for future stars at love's behest.
No carelessness, for true insight
distinguishes 'twixt wrong and right.
Shared memories spell magic quite
enheartening, self-sustaining, might
dissolve fears with alacrity
show there's no cause - fatality
lies outside shared experience,
while slow decline at soul's expense
is out of court. Love must be right
must sweep suspicion out of sight.
Best is a plateau pearly white,
envelops life in peerless light,
If you discover - much ado -
I'm not the one, to self stay true,
let old affection guarantee
that love despises locks - float free,
and through that freedom find despite
doubts past, at last innate birthright.
2 March 2009
robi03_1864_robi03_0000 XXX_LXX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Anthology Prepared
His wish was wit with wisdom well to wed
within an epigram, - he found instead
some thought slight wit was there and that was slight,
he witless seemed to others, lacked insight.
He kept in sight their criticism there,
and kept from sight verse, parodies hors pair,
for some insipid seemed, rose-water, trite, -
but then began to fly another kite.
He pruned, he tuned, communed, was often led
to pulp the offspring fond that Time had bled,
until the flow could sew in framwork tight
both harmony and sense, in fancy’s flight.
For the first time he’s spurred to offer fare, -
incisive works beyond the critics’ care,
will cast no anxious glance to who’d indict
with bark or bite the verses seen tonight.
Dust swept by one who sought to look ahead,
through Internet a reputation spread, -
but what is fame, a lighthouse in the night,
a passing beam before eternal night...
May this collection transcend Time the slayer,
to challenge finite ends is poet’s prayer.
May this selection stimulate, invite
reflection, humour, pleasure bright.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Between Dark Past and Future Flight
Between dark past and future flight
Effect and Cause we question quite,
rhyme time between midnight and noon
to read, mark, learn, digest this tune.
Soul travels far, ka’s second sight
scouts out from dune to blue lagoon -
with moral codes plays fey buffoon.
Between dark past and future flight
the butterfly finds wings for flight
although, in silk spin knit cocoon,
it knows not dawn from afternoon.
Mind mirage magic may excite
confusing notions – far and soon
merge premonition’s present boon.
Between dark past and future flight
trace space, expand and pace delight ~
from morn till midnight one should learn
to seed born insight, harvest earn,
bend to contentment very soon
ends, means, all harmonies attune
heart, soul, which whole from parts return.
Between dark past and future flight
now ‘stalac_might’ checks stalag tight
mankind evolved from the baboon
to trace his race pace picayune.
between the darkness and the light
most squander chances opportune
dreams rose themed spurned, they haste to tomb.
Vague contexts blurred, restrictions fight
unshadowed vision full, shy moon
casts spell whose pull’s forgot by noon.
Between dark past and future flight
The wheel spins on, ignores ‘wrong’, ‘right’
As light, dark, rainbow’s ark all churn
fear not fall near, nor rise call spurn.
Sandman plays game outside luck, blight,
for more than intellect's harpoon.
Hope blooms, may anguish, heartache, prune.
Between dark past and future flight
oft ‘Justice’ seems a notion quite
outside God’s scheme - ‘on joue le clown’
play insecurity immune
while mocking empty social rite
inventing, changing Scheme and gods
to bury fears inspired by sods.
Between dark past and future flight,
through silver starred aragonite,
December’s frost melts into June.
Some worries shrink while some balloon.
Concealed may be revealed despite
the veil few tear – invite, festoon
lass lonesome on her honeymoon.
Between dark past and future flight
Cupid, Apollo, Aphrodite,
injustice remedy, dragoon
Fate’s darts, spite filled, to build pontoon,
surprise to catalyse, excite,
scene set for future hid from sight
till pattern pieces knit in tune.
Between dark past and future flight
some role reversals reunite
checks, balances, inopportune
risks which too haughty silver spoon
takes, greedy, - tides turn, pride indict.
Who, rich, Today would play and croon,
Tomorrow buries very soon.
Between dark past and future flight
sleep paints saint, social parasite,
in wavelengths rainbow may lampoon
for wage-slave, sage, or loon tycoon.
Blind bodies curled, bind whirl-swirled quite,
from youth uncouth, ungainly goon,
“to lean and slippered pantaloon.”
Between dark past and future flight
enchanting maid, heroic knight,
play out day’s doubt, - though beer saloon
may spur the bleary eyed to swoon.
Einstein’s ignored for much which might
influence an inner tune
or new create, decoding rune.
Between dark past and future flight
is vision sent meant to incite
destiny's spermatazoon
egged on by p[h]antomime cartoon?
Is insight drawn through second-sight -
though chance seems blind behind sin’s call
true dance dreams find combined in all.
(c) Jonathan Robin - Rhyme scheme after R.W. Answell
written 23 March 2005 and 29 November 2006 revised and expanded 14 April 2008.
For initial version and Answell see below
___________
Between dark past and future flight
Between dark past and future flight
the butterfly finds wings for flight
although within the spun cocoon
it knows not dawn from afternoon.
From morn till midnight we can learn
to seed born insight, harvest earn.
Thus to contentment very soon
sweet thoughts will bend, send sweeter tune.
Between dark past and future flight
trace space, expand and pace delight ~
although Fate now plays the buffoon
mocks efforts with uncoded rune.
As light, dark, rainbow’s ark do churn
fear nothing near yet nothing spurn,
for more than meets March eye in June
may blossom ~ anguish, heartache, prune, ~
for fears grow dim, soon tears do dry,
and Sandman grim can only sigh
when confidence and trust balloon,
scout out from dune to blue lagoon.
23 March 2005
Between the Sunset and the Sea
Between the gate post and the gate
I lingered with my love till late;
And what cared I for time of night
Till wakened by the watch dog’s bite.
And thud of leathering boxtoed fate
Between the gatepost and the gate.
Between the seaside and the sea
I kissed my love and she kissed me;
But rapturous day was gruesome night,
And what is love but bloom and blight?
And what is kiss of mine to thee
Between the seaside and the sea?
Between the sunshine and the sun
I saw a face that hinted fun;
But what is fun, and what is face,
When driven at life’s killing pace?
I simply say that I have none
Between the sunshine and the sun.
Between the bumble and the bee
Full many a soul has had to flee;
And what is love, may I enquire,
When asked to build the kitchen fire?
Or who would not leap in the sea
Between the bumble and the bee?
Between the tea store and the tea
There is a wide immensity;
A dollar twenty five a pound,
And not a nickel to be found.
Then what has fate in store for thee
Between the tea store and the tea?
R.W. ANSWELL
poem by Jonathan Robin
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On the Innate Drive For What is Right
As life bled, martyrdom flared its buds.
Repression, red from irritation,
Rendered chinks and cracks; but thuds of
Armament - in cowardice - accomplice of the
Dictatorial blight thro' countless years -
Wreaked its retribution:
Yet hope began to bloom a coloured carapace
Enshrining their allegiance ‘gainst the
Terror in their tears.
And on! Splits yawned - breaches in the junta:
Flesh fought fanatical minds -
Bullets welcomed into open hands
And blessed with yearnings for morality:
Chiselled man-toys of death and mutilation
Couldn't repel the might of freedom
Surging at the bright horizon.
Crepuscular rays of purpose, body,
Flooded pandemonium with
Overwhelming clarity, direction -
Burdened clouds drifting wayward as the
Light channelled out a vision,
Intensifying focus on tomorrow -
Deepen their stride
As they home in to
What is theirs,
Rightfully theirs!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The reign of justice and freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Ballooning Acrostic 1783
Ballooning hope speeds, seeds scope's light,
All clouds disperse, all fears take flight,
On future graceful places dreams
On past despair trace fades, it seems
Ingenue fair finds fresh delight.
(4 July 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Justice is the One who gives Life on Me
For the people who seek for comfort or dead mercy,
Their fairness sob and yet still strife for their right,
I rage against the death of justice before it will be.
My eyes shed tears, my heart crumpled tenderly
Cries of beggar and poor who gleamed on my sight,
For only Justice is the one who gives life on me.
The soul who screams, murdered by hatred and fury,
By means of politics, they were killed and cause blight
I rage against the death of justice before it will be.
Such criminals must be punish and injured severely,
Either they’ll tell the truth or lie, a freedom to fight,
For only Justice is the one who gives life for me.
Unjust power, ways of government over sovereignty,
To rule the nation seeking in dark the hopes in light
Yet, rage against the death of justice before it will be.
Hearts and souls are estranged on life that’s so unlucky,
And unfair and believers grasp on their faith; hold on tight,
And rage against the death of justice before it will be,
For only Justice, Justice and Justice…
Which the one who gives life to me.
poem by Raymond Cabrera
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Polyacrostic - Changes Expand Beginnings
Vision clears, we’re somehow made aware
A new age dawns as instincts stimulate
Longings that at last hopes liberate.
Underlying focus everywhere
Energizes inner light, to share
Tenderness, emotions, to create
Harmony which may anticipate
Evolution understanding where,
Time time defies. Change may initiate
Insight, vision new, expands to date
Mark end of beginnings, - secondary state -
Extending former frontiers to prepare
Opportunities for future fair.
None need look back, let Fate precipitate
Events, as metamorphosis Hope's gate
Appears to open, expedition rare.
Refuse facility, temptations, free
THe self for new dimensions, - learn to be...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Wayfarer’s Welcome
From life's fair shore the wish for more
helps soar above life's angry sea
whose violent churns soul spurns - in store
a road unknown sets flesh, bone, free
to sound true core unseen before,
restoring confidence to be
to self true for fair future draw
cards dealt by heedless destiny.
Bright light may guide from deep inside
wide vision may unravel
life's mystery, see clarified
‘why’, ‘wherefore’ as you travel.
Though gravel hide gold paving bide
awhile until Time’s gavel
knocks twice, till inner keys provide
life’s answers true though novel.
No fears, no tears, hope's scope endears
sight to eyes which insight
recovers, hears through inner ears,
new rune tunes joys incite.
Today’s dearth, blight, on Earth well might,
reversed, redraw frontiers,
and expedite change welcome, right
wrongs, blunt strongest spears.
Past storms at last are over, cast
behind, - mind, soul, washed clean,
while vistas vast unveiled may fast
set scene for Hippocrene.
Verse unsurpassed leaves all aghast
who cannot match serene
and touching cast all will outlast,
deserving only paean.
No desert here, nor mirage drear, -
beneath tomorrow's sky
twin moons appear, - Mars, Venus dear,
luck, love, personnify,
to travels steer away from fear
of way unknown, to try
fresh paths, to peer beyond ‘now’, ‘here’,
crass ignorance defy.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ire On Cross Sect_I_On Spire Pyre
Black books some find
grant ease of mind
responsibility
remove behind
dark veil and blind
bewailing liberty.
Life should be led,
shared, free from lead
respectability,
What lies ahead?
Hell? lies, instead
seems crass conformity.
Lip service paid
by man or maid
to bias, bigotry,
replace game played,
joy unafraid,
with sects that narrow be.
Turn more to hope
for increased scope
throughout life's comedy,
beware time's rope
that hangs who grope
for creeds rarely agree
on godhead fair
with love to spare,
or core divinity.
Seek self - truth's there -
'ware cupboards bare,
wraith faiths' fatuity.
23 April 2010
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Break Out 0509 - Initial Version
I've lived protected by those walls Time's wit
Lets stand a while, like pride before the fall,
Ignoring purposely the fact that all
Vain structures tumble down, and bit by bit
Earth into dust dissolves what man would knit.
Protection serves its purpose, for the wall
Relieves some pressures, gives the wherewithal
Of time to see life's puzzle pieces fit.
The time has come to quit false safety, split
Entrenched opinion whose scope seems so small,
Creation hinders, progress holds in thrall.
Turn then with me towards fresh future lit!
Each step to freedom leaves the past behind,
Destroying bias, liberates the mind!
(16 December 1991)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Truth is
Truth is often far from sight,
Truth is seldom without blight,
Truth is in the dark of night,
Truth is in the hand of right,
Truth is that most noble Knight,
Truth is that which drives their fight,
Truth is all that brings us light,
Truth is all that gives us flight.
poem by Arik Fletcher
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